Some Kind of Mates
by ToadstoolTea
Summary: Post-series. "Live with me!" he said. It seemed like a good idea at the time. No, that's a lie. He really wasn't thinking at all. Mizusawa and Kiyama... centric. Slice-of-life with some angst and some fluff.
1. prologue: promise

Hi all! Thanks for stumbling across my little fic... intended to be chronologically linked ficlets. Or something? Anyhow, there's not much else to say. You know the usual disclaimers: I don't own the original scenario and this is not for profit. I hope you like~

* * *

**( yakusoku )**

_The Promise They Made_

_"Let's keep tumbling together!"_

That's what they had said. That's what they agreed to do. And they did.

At least, they _tried_.

The strange ensemble that called themselves the Karasumori Boys Tumbling Team had resolved to keep practicing like nothing happened. They'd work like they had a goal, though with the loss at the Kantou Regional Championships came the end of their competitive season. And for a while, that worked out fine.

It after a practice not long after the return from the summer holidays when Kaneko that stopped everyone and announced that he could no longer practice with the team. Slowly, quietly, the bespectacled boy confessed that been trying his hardest to keep up with his studies and the club, and how it had been decision that had been torturing him for a while. Then the boy removed his glasses and buried his face in his hands, unable to continue.

Within seconds, Mizusawa and Yuuta rushed to his side, taking their friend in their arms, as apology after apology spilled out of his mouth between chokes and sobs. Mizusawa was rubbing the shorter boy's back in circles when, in a voice barely a whisper, Yuuta admitted to having the same troubles and considering the same thing. Mizusawa's hand stopped and he looked to the boy over Kaneko's bowed head, no doubt looking as blindsided as he felt.

Sure, they'd talked about college, he probably knew it was coming in the back of his mind, but Yuuta had never talked to him about it.

He suddenly felt very alone.

Mizusawa's eyes darted about the room until the rested on Hino, then Tsuchiya, and finally the group of Wataru, Ryousuke, Nippori, and Kiyama. All seemed frozen, eyes wide open and looking at... no, _past_ the scene in front of them. For some reason, the yankees in particular seemed stunned by the news, the look in their eyes looking a bit... lost?

He averted his eyes to his friend's buzzcut. Something he couldn't read was written on all of their faces, and though everyone in the room was upset by the news, the look on their faces stood out the most. He figured that if he got another chance to see it, he'd be able to tell what it was. But by the time he looked up again, the rest of the team had gathered around, offering encouragement in gruff voices and pleasant words.

Rhythmic gymnastics had proven very important for all the boys in that room, but it meant a bit more to the former delinquents. It had allowed them a passion, healed wounds, joined them together, and given them a home.

A home they'd only been allowed to stay in for a matter of weeks.

That was the last time they were all gathered in the clubhouse like that.

...

Mizusawa realized it one morning before homeroom. Since morning practices were no more, and both Yuuta and Kaneko seemed intent on milking the minutes before homeroom for all the study time they could. He found himself stuck reviewing the Tokugawa shogunate.

Turning to his left, he saw Ryousuke, learning against the window and tapping away at his cell phone's keypad. He gave that grin he always gave, then nudged a snoozing Wataru awake. The redhead looked up, waved and turned his head toward the window to get back to his nap.

Mizusawa straightened himself in his seat, and after a brief pause, turned to the other side to see Kiyama in his little corner, legs crossed, browsing that week's manga digest. As if taller boy could feel his classmate's gaze, he looked up and locked eyes with the boy across the room. Kiyama nodded and gave a smile that was far more brief and lopsided than his blonde counterpart.

It took a moment for Mizusawa to compose himself and return it with a hand raised in greeting - that look still managed to throw him, but he was getting better. Kiyama's eyes then fell back to his comic, and Mizusawa turned around in his seat again. He caught a glimpse of Yuuta leaning over to Kaneko comparing answers to some kind of math problem. There were so many times, on the mat, goofing around at the Tsuchiya bathhouse, talking over Natsuko-san's special omelette rice... so many times that he forgot how different the yankees were from him, so reminders like this hit him hard.

He looked down at his history notes again, biting his lip.

_What does a yankee do when he graduates?_

Mizusawa knew his place in life. He'd heard lecture after lecture from his parents about his ending youth and his new life as a contributing member of society; college was a necessary and unavoidable part of that. He knew his place, and so did Yuuta Takenaka and Atsushi Kaneko.

But how about his newer friends, the one he known only for months, though it felt like years? There was a part of his brain that told him that it was silly to worry like that; that it wasn't _his_ place. Yet a something in a corner of his mind desperately wanted his friends to, at the very least, progress in life the way he was. Even if they couldn't stay together, they'd at least go in the same direction.

Mizusawa sighed and resumed looking at notes.

He didn't get much studying done that morning.


	2. one: test

**( shiken )**

_The Big Test_

In the meantime, summer folded to autumn. The morning winter came knocking on the door was the morning Mizusawa left town to take his exam.

The train ride to the city was ten kinds of torture. He was all too nervous. Over the long trip he alternated between cramming his notes, stroking the good luck charm his mother had given before he left before he gave up on both and settled on staring out of the window. The sky was completely grey.

With the help some maps he printed off the school website, he eventually made it to the place he'd be tested at. He removed the crumpled printouts from his nose to see herds - maybe hundreds - of young people moving towards a Western-style building that looked every bit as impressive as it had looked in the pamphlets. Born and raised in a small town, seeing so many people bustling around was definitely something he wasn't used to. It didn't help his anxiety at all. But he managed to step off of the sidewalk long enough clap his hands together in a silent prayer to gods he wasn't sure existed.

He felt a bit more confident when he slipped back into the crowd and walked into the university gates.

If someone was up there listening, they'd hopefully give him the chance to get used to those crowds in the near future.

...

Some hours later, Mizusawa stumbled out of those gates feeling dazed and dumb. He felt like that test had drained his very _soul_.

But he was quickly snapped awake by the raindrops hitting his nose; a cold shower had begun soaking the area. Opening his bag, he was surprised to actually find that an umbrella under all his things. It was one of those personal, ridiculously tiny foldable ones that barely covered his head when it was open, but it was something. Leave it to his mom to pack his bag on a day like today.

The sparse drops quickly turned into a heavy rain, and Mizusawa found himself even more grateful for his mother's foresight. Eventually, he reached the bus stop that would take him to the train station home. Interestingly enough, there were only a couple of people there, a stark contrast to the crowds he'd been swept away in earlier. Was that because there was no shelter from the precipitation, and there was another one close by? Or had Mizusawa taken just _that _long to finish his exams? He checked his watch and frowned. Sure, he'd been one of the last people to leave his testing room...

Slightly disappointed with that revelation, he trudged towards the stop and hoped that he didn't have that long to wait for the bus. Maybe he'd just missed it? That would explain why there were only a few people, like that guy who looked just like...

_Hey, wait-_

Without thinking, he shuffled up to the bench, slowing his gait as he moved behind it. He quickly confirmed that the boy sitting there was indeed Ryuuichirou Kiyama, his usually wild hair soaked and sticking to his scalp. He was just sitting there, like it wasn't half a step from a downpour outside. Just sitting in the rain. It seemed oddly fitting, considering the boy's personality... but _really?_

Before he knew it, Mizusawa found his arm leaning forward. It was a bit weird; the bench the was high, the boy was tall and holding a heavy bag and trying to keep both of them dry had him holding the tiny umbrella at a strange angle.

_Maybe that was presumptuous. Maybe he likes the rain. But maybe he'll catch cold-_

_"You."_

The sound of that familiar voice got Mizusawa suddenly feeling a bit flustered... simply because he hadn't the chance to prepare for it, he told himself. Mizusawa bowed his head slightly. Kiyama wiped some of the water off his face and returned the gesture.

"Uh... you didn't come here for the entrance exam, did you?"

Kiyama nodded.

"Oh," Mizusawa almost muttered. He really hadn't expected that. It had been more or less agreed that the "normals" would avoid talking to the yankees about college. While their aspirations were unknown, their class standings weren't. None of the three yankee seniors had respectable grades. Again, how much of that had to do with aptitude or motivation was a mystery... but for the sake of keeping everyone on good terms, it was something they never discussed.

But there was something deep inside him that felt relieved hearing the news.

Then Mizusawa fidgeted, not so much from nervousness, but because his arm was quickly growing tired from that angle at which he was holding the umbrella. Keeping both of them dry like that was... awkward, to say the least. "How'd it go?"

"Okay, I guess."

Mizusawa couldn't help but think his classmate sounded pessimistic, but didn't he always sound that way?

"How did you do?" Kiyama continued, his voice sounding a tad less dismal. Was he genuinely interested, or just being polite? That was another thing that was hard to tell about the boy... ugh. Mizusawa still had such a hard time talking to him; he couldn't help second-guessing everything he said. There were days when trite five-minute conversations about the weather would leave his head hurting.

"I think I did okay, too." Mizusawa exhaled lightly; he really didn't think that at all.

His thoughts were interrupted again; a warm, wet hand was prying his off the umbrella's handle. He looked up to see Kiyama taking it from him. _ When the hell did he even get up_, he mused, a little distressed he hadn't noticed something like that. He looked up again and noticed that the taller boy had done it to hold the umbrella over them both.

"I'm sure you did fine," Kiyama went. Mizusawa couldn't detect the change in his tone this time.

Sneaking a peek at the boy standing above him, Mizusawa noted that his classmate didn't look anything but tired. Had he been studying hard? Was he annoyed that he knew such a hopeless kid that couldn't even hold an umbrella the right way?

...Would he be going to the same school as he would?

A million other questions flooded his mind, like why he'd picked _that _university, and what program he was aiming for, but Mizusawa stayed silent. Kiyama made no move to speak either, making things terribly awkward since they had a two-hour commute back home.

So Mizusawa's thoughts were taken over by what he supposed where _Kiyama_'s thoughts the entire time. The only moments he got a break were those changeovers from the bus to the train station and back again. Kiyama would hold out his hand, and with no questions, Mizusawa would relinquish his umbrella. It was a matter of logic, right? It made sense, there was only one between the two of them. They were going the same way, there was a cold, hard rain and Kiyama was the taller of the two.

_It made sense._

Still, it must have looked very strange for two boys to be sharing such a tiny umbrella.

Such thoughts remained pervasive in Mizusawa's mind as the two walked the sidewalks and streets. Neither spoke much on the way home.

Eventually, they came to a corner that wasn't too far from Kamone and their usual hang-outs, and Kiyama brought the pair to a halt. He turned to Mizusawa and presented him with the umbrella handle for the third time that afternoon. "Thanks. See you Monday."

Eyes wide, Mizusawa turned to the handle and carefully accepted the umbrella, making special care not to have any of other those awkward moments where hands brushed together or anything like that. By that time, a mentally exhausted Mizusawa could only watch the yankee as he bowed off, jogging down to the streets in what presumably was the way to his house.

Mizusawa stayed rooted to his spot until he watched his friend turn the corner, and disappear behind the neighborhood bakery. He shivered once before he finally started to move towards his own home.

...

Much later that evening, after dinner and long talks with his parents what he thought about the test and college in general, Mizusawa lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling. He didn't know how long his eyes traced the patterns formed by the mottled paint job up there when he had finally settled on it.

Of course, he'd long given up on any chances of reciprocation, and he knew the other boy was too upstanding to knowingly toy with any lingering feelings he might've had at that point.

No, he had it!

Kiyama had been thinking, "this is convenient".

_Nothing more and nothing less._

With a groan, Mizusawa turned over in his bed and wrapped himself in his blankets. He would fall asleep feeling very much like he'd failed two big exams that day.


	3. two: request

**( motome )**

_The Stupid Question_

That second Saturday in March was one Mizusawa had circled in his calendar in a bright blue marker.

Most of his friends had received letters of acceptance from their schools of choice, himself included. Despite all the scary moments and close calls, all nine members of the tumbling team had survived the year, and six of them were graduating. So Mizusawa's favorite people in the world were throwing a party at the restaurant Kamone.

Good news, good company, good food. There wasn't a damn thing that could get him down that day.

Not even... that one development.

It was well after dark when all the boys left Azuma's place. The eight splintered off as they headed home. For the first time, he found himself with the tallest, most imposing member of the gymnastics club. At one point, Mizusawa figured that the prospect of walking home with Kiyama was a fate worse than death itself. But now... after having a great day like he did, he could take on the world.

_Pffft. _Kiyama was nothing.

It only took a few paces for Mizusawa to get restless.

He was still buzzing with energy from the party and _dying_ to say something to the taller boy. As usual, Kiyama wasn't volunteering anything. Mizusawa wondered if it was possible that it was Kiyama was the one feeling awkward for once. It was a funny thought... Yet it wasn't any big secret that he never excelled that much with social skills. And that was all the more reason for Mizusawa to find something to say, right?

_Hmm._ Well, Kiyama didn't seem the type to tolerate smalltalk, so Mizusawa found himself fishing for relevant topics to discuss. The first one he came up with seemed pretty obvious.

"You never walk this way!"

"I'm going straight home tonight."

"Ah..." Mizusawa's mouth hung upon as he tried to combine all those times he'd seen Kiyama in the neighborhood, mostly after get-togethers at Kamone and the Tsuchiya family bath house. After a few moments of thought, he realized he still had no idea where the taller boy lived.

Kiyama seemed to pick up on the need for an explanation. "I usually stop by the convenience store afterwards."

"For what?"

"Things."

"..._oh._"

Mizusawa narrowed his eyes at the taller boy, who didn't seemed fazed at all by the fact that he had killed a perfectly good conversation.

That annoyed Mizusawa, but made him just that much more determined. Even after the yankee had joined the team and the awkwardness between them had begun to dissipated, Mizusawa hadn't had a successful conversation with him. It was a week before graduation, and though they were once again slated to have the same alma mater, there was a possibility that he'd never get the chance to talk to him like this _ever again._

This was it.

New topic! He hadn't been alone with Kiyama since the day of the entrance exams, and hadn't talked to him - or anyone - about their postsecondary coincidence. It was something that had crossed his mind often, though he usually tucked it way. It was a coincidence, after all. Nothing more.

Kiyama had this gaze that might as well been laser beams, and he felt the side of his face tingle and burn.

"Y'know what's funny?"

The taller boy looked to Mizusawa, a curious look on his face.

"We're going to the same school next year! Don't you find that funny?"

While Mizusawa erupted in laughter, much like he'd heard the funniest thing ever, Kiyama just chuckled. His was a short and dry laugh. Whether it was sincere or sardonic, Mizusawa didn't know, nor if he should take it as a good or bad thing. But is was _something_. As he own giggles stopped, he found himself afraid he'd lose that something soon... so he had to find something to keep this going with.

Something _good_.

"Wouldn't it be crazy if we, like, lived together?"

Okay... that was the first thing that popped into his mind, not _good_. Oh well, he'd roll with it.

Mizusawa jogged a little ahead of the other boy, and turned around with a raised hand, halting him.

"Ryuuichirou Kiyama." It was the first time he'd said the boy's name out loud like that. Any other time, it would have embarrassed him, but in that moment he found it remarkably empowering. _"Kiyama!_" he shouted again, and pointed a finger at the taller boy's confused face.

He took a deep breath, and let it go.

"Live with me!"

The was a when the only sound was a barking dog somewhere in the distance. Kiyama stared at the boy in front of him, his face frozen, eyes wide, mouth agape. With every millisecond that passed, Mizusawa felt his confidence leaving him, and for the first time that day, he felt _bad. _Nervous. How he always felt.

That was when Kiyama looked away, and said it.

"Okay."

"...what?"

_"Okay."_

The taller boy shifted the bag he had slung over his shoulder and shrugged.

Mizusawa's smile had contorted into one of disgust, though that wasn't really how he was feeling at the moment. He honestly didn't know _what _he felt like. He didn't know how to deal with that answer. He hadn't expected it... but it really wasn't like he had the foresight to expect anything. He clasped his hands over his mouth, contemplating the mortal sin he'd just committed...

But Kiyama spoke again.

"We already know each other. I trust you, and I can respect you as a roommate. I believe you'd do the same for me. Living in a dorm is expensive, and this way I don't have to go through the trouble of searching for a roommate."

Mizusawa blinked, Kiyama's usual matter-of-fact tone coming across as a bit too normal for the boy, especially given the context. No, in this instance, what was too little was too _much._ But only then would Kiyama deliver the finishing blow...

He took a few steps, stopping beside Mizusawa. This time, it was the latter looked to his friend with the large eyes and the open mouth... But Kiyama arched an eyebrow and nodded slowly, as if he were convinced that the thing he was about to say were nothing less than absolute truth.

"It'll be _convenient_, right?"

The corner of Kiyama's lips turned up, in something that didn't quite look like a smile as he starting walking away again. Mizusawa watched helplessly as he watched the former yankee stroll ahead of him. It was only then that he started putting together what had just happened. And.. he'd failed at another conversation.

You couldn't call _that_ a success, right?

Mizusawa laughed again, more loudly than he meant to. It came out sounding like sobs.

...

Mizusawa had been sitting there for a long time before he heard the door creak open.

"I'm home..."

A short, slightly stout woman shuffled into the kitchen, both hands full of department store bags. She wasn't that old, but her face was creased could see the lines from when she smiled too much and she cried too much. Raising the boy forlornly sitting at the table... it had taken her for a few rides, though she figured no more than the average mother.

She set her the bags by the door, and looked over the room. "Taku? Dear, what's wrong?"

The woman looked over the room to see a pair of teacups and a couple of crumb-laden plates by the sink. Her eyes returned to the table, and she noticed that in front of the boy was an open file folder with papers spilling out the side. She cradled her head in a hand and groaned. She'd managed to completely forget in her weekend search for bargains...

"Sorry Taku, this completely slipped my mind! I must have missed... Kiriyama-kun?"

"Kiyama," the boy corrected, not looking up.

The woman's thin lips pressed into an 'O', and she pulled out a chair at the table across from her son. Mizusawa pushed the folder towards her, and the woman eagerly accepted it.

Her eyes darted between the printout of a floor plan lying on the table and the photographs she'd shifted through. "Wow, this is nice. Really nice."

"I know."

Mizusawa's mother didn't notice the edge of bitterness that colored her's son's voice. She was too busy arranging the photos in a neat stack on, and moving on to the next thing in the file; a several official looking pages stapled together. She reached into her bag her to retrieve a pair of reading glasses.

After a few minutes, she removed the glasses and looked to her son again.

"And... it's a steal!"

_"I know."_

Mizusawa knew. He knew the place was a little too perfect. He knew how lucky he was when Kiyama had mentioned something about "a friend of a friend", or something like that, being able to pull some strings. After looking at the pictures and the number that would be his rent, he _knew_.

That's why he fell in love _again_ that afternoon with a cozy little two-bed, one-bath hole in the wall he'd never set foot in.

And again, he hated himself for it. He regretted asking Kiyama that stupid question in the first place, and he regretted that he hadn't the guts to walk up to him in those last days of school and tell him that he'd been kidding. He couldn't shake the feeling that - like his crush on the other boy - he was out of his mind to even consider it, and it would do nothing but cause him a lot of worry and embarrassment and grief in the end.

"Congratulations, Taku!" Before he knew it, his mother leapt out of her chair and buried his head in her bosom. He didn't bother protesting. There was no possible way his voice would cut through her shrill cries about not believing how her son was growing up and things like that.

"Kaa-san..."

Both mother and son cried in each other's arms, for wildly different reasons.

Taku Mizusawa would call his friend about signing the lease by the end of the day.


	4. three: conditions

**( jyouken )**  
_The Conditions_

"You can still back out of it, y'know," said Yuuta Takenaka, as he looked to the large box he'd just set on Mizusawa's new kitchen table. The Mizusawa patriarch had a weekend assignment, so in his stead, the young man had volunteered to help his friend with his big move, hang out a little, and make sure his friend knew what the hell he was getting himself into. "It's a big city. Even if you don't find someplace that close, you can definitely find something."

Mizusawa was sitting on the arm of the worn couch they'd found in the living room. Both were taking a break while his mother dealt with the moving people downstairs.

He didn't know what to say. The truth was that Mizusawa thought of Yuuta as one of the most reasonable people he knew. Sure, he would have his _moments_, but generally, he was very level-headed. He was the type that thought things through. Taku Mizusawa was the type to spontaneously ask his one-time crush to stay with him for a year. But actually seeing the place brought it home how lucky he was. The place was roomy enough, clean, and in a good location. It was just _too _good to be true.

"I'm sure he'd understand," Yuuta continued, still eying that box. He didn't look too eager to start unpacking yet, and he reason was evident.

They were worried about "he". _Him_.

Cabinets they found semi-stocked and a few pieces of furniture in the otherwise empty-looking apartment showed them that the antecedent to their pronouns had indeed already moved in, though he was nowhere to be found. It was a fact that Mizusawa found comforting and worrying at the same time.

Another discreet glance at the door, and Mizusawa turned back toward his friend in the kitchen. "I signed a lease. A _contract_."

"You're okay with it?" quipped Yuuta.

Mizusawa exhaled and rolled his eyes. "We've talked about this how many times?"

Finally, Yuuta bowed his head, sensing the mounting irritation in his friend's voice. "Just... making sure. If you're good, I'm good." He offered a smile, which Mizusawa weakly returned. He knew that, yet again, he wasn't convincing and his friend wasn't convinced.

But Mizusawa did rise and make his way into the kitchen and taking a place by Yuuta at the table. He reached into his pocket and took his brand-new key to the box, slicing through the layers of packing tape. It was Yuuta's turn to sigh, and the two began emptying boxes and stocking cabinets.

...

By the time it was dark, Mizusawa had unpacked most of his things for the common rooms, while his mom and best friend were on the road back home. He was left alone to deal with the rest of his things, was stuck on hooking up the television and DVD player he'd volunteered to supply.

The thing was, he'd never been too tech-savvy, and was currently trying to figure out why he needed a TV and another box to just to watch his network shows, and why ten extra cords were packed with the DVD player. Was he supposed to use them all? Which went where? Technology was supposed to be _convenient _the last time he checked...

A loud, high-pitched _creak _permeated the room, Mizusawa looked up from an instruction booklet that was proving to be a load of crap. It took him a moment to realize that it was the front door crying out for some lubricant spray. And that the tall figure of Ryuuichirou Kiyama had suddenly appeared in the entrance.

As the man crouched down to remove his shoes, Mizusawa attempted to stand only to find a bundle of cords was wrapped around his leg and had him pinned to the ground. So he stayed there and smiled his winningest among a pile of wires and remotes and assembly manuals.

"Welcome home!"

A pause. Kiyama blinked.

"Oh."

And Kiyama simply looked at the man on the floor, eyes wide, as if he were looking at a perfect stranger. Or crazy. He _did _recognize him, right? Mizusawa figured it looked a bit strange, for him to be hunched over in the corner of a dark room, looking very much like an electrical hazard. Whether he was crazy wired guy, even if he was his friend from school, why was he talking to him so familiarly? It did seem like a bit too much...

Mizusawa felt his smile fade and his face flush, and he prayed it was too dark in the room for the other man to notice the latter. It was only after a few painful moments of staring match that Kiyama would raise a hand in greeting.

"Hey."

Mizusawa could do nothing but stare as he watched Kiyama take a few paces. And then he stopped.

"You don't need any help with..."

Mizusawa shook his head. "Oh, no! We took care of all of it."

Another step, then Kiyama turned and pointed to the tangle of wires surrounding Mizusawa. The latter shook his head vigorously.

"Really, I've got it!"

So Kiyama nodded and disappeared into his room.

Mizusawa looked down the hall for a long time. He expected to hear at bedroom door creak open again, a light flicker on and filter from under the door, or some other sign of life. For all he knew, the other man had walked into his room and dropped dead. Did he not care that the person he'd be living with for the next twelve months or so was there?

"He's probably tired," Mizusawa mused aloud before turning his attention back to the television hookups. "And what's the deal with this blue wire?"

...

It was a few hours later that Kiyama emerged from his room with the suggestion to have dinner delivered. After a discussion they settled on Chinese.

Between the phone call to the little family restaurant and the knock on the front door, neither of them spoke. Presumably bored, Kiyama retreated back to his room, while Mizusawa lingered in the living room, triumphantly taking in a primetime reality show. But he wasn't really watching it. Instead found himself consumed with thoughts about this new place where he'd go to sleep every night and brush his teeth in the morning and...

Shortly after they collected their meal from the delivery boy, Mizusawa watched as Kiyama sorted through the containers, peeking into bowls before placing them on one side of the table or the other. As usual, he was quiet while doing so. Mizusawa figured that he should've been helping with that, but his mind was spinning with Yuuta's words from earlier.

"Are you okay with this?" The words left his mouth before he even noticed.

Kiyama lowered a container of soup, his eyes wide. "You wanted the pizza after all? Next time we can-"

"With _this_." Mizusawa made circular motion with his finger, a gesture he knew was ambiguous at best. Only when the circles shrank and it looked like he was just pointing between the two of them was there the glint of understanding in Kiyama's face.

He set down a bowl of rice and looked Mizusawa in his eyes. The shorter one grit his teeth, as if he had to brace himself to be looked at. He'd learned to handle a lot of things in his dealings with Kiyama, but not eye contact. Not with _those _eyes. A sudden sense of dread washed over him when he considered that it was something he'd be forced to endure and have to get used to.

"I wouldn't have agreed if I wasn't," he started, his voice as flat as his eyes were intense. "_You're_ okay with this, right?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't." Mizusawa smiled.

Kiyama cracked a smirk of his own before he resumed sorting through the entrees and sides. After the relief of being released from the former delinquent's ocular stronghold passed, Mizusawa ruminated over the brevity of Kiyama's smile. Was he regretting his decision too? Kiyama never spoke a word about his feelings, even about things that... well, _tortured _him. Could he dreading the idea of living with a weirdo like him that much...?

Fortunately, Mizusawa's descent into despair was interrupted by a wrapped pair of chopsticks and napkins being shoved his face. He uttered a thanks and took his seat in front of some plastic bowls filled with rice, meat, and vegetables. With an _"itadakimasu"_, he started poking around his bowl, noting that the beef was more done than he liked it.

And the room fell silent. Mizusawa couldn't suppress his glances at the man across from him as he picked the water chestnuts out of his veggies. This guy, he even ate his noodles quietly...

It was then that something appeared to strike Kiyama. It took one pointed look for Mizusawa to set down his chopsticks. It was obvious that something important was about to be discussed.

"Maybe we should decide on some rules? Just basic things."

Ah, he'd read about these before - "roommate agreements". Responsibilities would be delegated, lines would be drawn, misunderstandings would be avoided. They definitely needed anything that would make life easier. Mizusawa nodded.

"Three things," Kiyama started, his voice quiet but firm. It seemed like he had been thinking about this for a long time. "One, try to clean up after yourself. Two, let's call after eleven quiet hours."

Mizusawa nodded again. Kiyama placed his chopsticks on his plate before continuing.

"Three. Not to intrude on your personal life, but I don't want to walk in on anything..."

This time, Mizusawa didn't nod.

It was the first time he'd heard Kiyama reference his sexuality since right after the training camp incident. After Kiyama had turned him down, there was that uncomfortable period... but they never really talked about it. Mizusawa always got the feeling that Kiyama, like a majority of the team, thought his sexuality something that could be ignored. And everything kinda did return to normal.

Everyone was still his friend. Kiyama was still his friend. In _spite _of that.

A queasy feeling was bubbling up from his stomach, Mizusawa forced a chuckle. "That sounds pretty good."

"Thanks," said Kiyama, and he resumed his meal.

_Fair enough_, he told himself, picking through his stir-fry. What Kiyama said was more than fair, and definitely not some kind of personal attack against him. He was sure the other wouldn't subject him to an impromptu make-out session with a random girl on their kitchen table.

Mizusawa looked over at Kiyama, who was guiding noodles into his mouth, looking blissfully unaware of the nerve that he'd just touched. It really was fair, but the fact that he'd mentioned it like that...

It was disappointing.

"Um..."

Mizusawa looked up to see Kiyama looking in his direction with an expression he couldn't quite place. He followed the other's gaze to his own dish of food. It had barely been touched.

"We can have pizza next time. I really don't mind."

Mizusawa smiled, making an extra effort to keep from looking as fake as he'd been feeling that entire evening. He didn't like pizza all that much, and he guessed Kiyama didn't either.

"Sure, we can do that."


End file.
